


Bought This Dress (So You Could Take It Off)

by afterandalasia



Series: repugaytion: A Descendants Femslash Songfic Series [4]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Canon Universe, Cunnilingus, Dresses, Established Evie/Mal (Disney), F/F, Mal Has a Filthy Mouth (Disney), Mal Likes Knives (Disney), Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Song: Dress (Taylor Swift), cutting off clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-02 00:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: Evie is wearing a dress made by someone else. Mal finds a way to express her disapproval of the dress, and her approval of Evie.





	Bought This Dress (So You Could Take It Off)

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this entire series isn't going to be Malvie, but I'm not gonna complain if the Malvie plotbunnies keep coming.
> 
> My immense gratitude to galianogangster for beta'ing this one!

Mal slammed the door closed and whirled around, feeling her anger radiating off her like heat. “What the fuck,” she said, eyes fixed on Evie, “are you wearing?”

It wasn’t that it looked bad. In fact, it suited Evie well. Layers of black net formed a hoop beneath a drape of red silk, and black embroidery led up across the bodice to rise over one shoulder. And that wasn’t just Mal’s opinion that  _ anything _ would look good on Evie.

Evie gave her a coy smile, leaning back with her hands against her desk. “It’s from Giselle’s Emporium. Do you like it?”

Mal’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care if it’s Edna Fucking Mode, E. It’s not  _ yours _ .”

She advanced across the room, acutely aware of the flawlessly-cut purple satin dress that she wore. The black trim had a lustre that flashed greenish in the light, matching the black gems in her hair with their green glimmer. It fit, tight enough to satisfy Auradon fashions, but Mal still felt like she could  _ move _ in it. That, more than anything else, made Evie’s clothes feel  _ safe _ .

She went to press her hand to the bodice of the dress – the bodice where the bones show too clearly to be Evie’s smooth work – only for her fingers to meet with metal, instead.

Evie’s eyes were dark, and her lips were shining, just inches away. “Then take it off me,” she whispered.

A glance down revealed that, indeed, Evie was pressing the hilt of a knife into Mal’s hand. It was not some kitchen knife, and at another time Mal might have asked where it had come from. All she could see was the intricate carving of the handle and the simple,  straight lines of the blade where it pointed downwards between them.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly as dry as bone. “Evie,” she whispered.

That had been one of the things about Auradon: no weapons in her hands. Of course, it was not as if she had always carried one on The Isle anyway, but it had been reassuring sometimes. And she’d had skill with a blade, of course she had, but she knew it was one of the most  _ villainous _ things she had ever done, to split the skin and see the blood of someone she  _ could _ have just threatened.

Evie’s lips brushed against her cheekbone, then tickled her ear, and thank Evil that Evie’s lipstick never smudged. Her breath was hot and soft. “I trust you, Mal. I always have.”

Trusted her, even with a blade. Mal’s hand wrapped around the handle, and immediately she felt the metal growing warmer beneath her touch, her muscles remembering the way she was supposed to hold it. A slight shift; yes, that was better. Mal’s breath hitched, head still bowed and eyes fixed as she felt heat spreading through her body, heat that was not just from how close she was to Evie but not hurt by it either.

One of Evie’s hands was still curled around the edge of the desk, but she trailed the other up Mal’s arm, leaving the hairs standing on end in the wake of her touch. It was so foolish, perhaps, how just a blade in her hand made her feel a little like a villain again. Like the person she was not allowed to be.

Evie’s fingers traced on up, past Mal’s shoulder, and gently pressed beneath her chin to turn her gaze upwards. Mal’s eyes snapped straight from the knife to Evie’s face, and it was no insult to how beautiful Evie’s body looked, but her face was like an enchantment written into flesh. Mal could have stared forever.

Brown eyes bored into hers. “I trust you,” Evie repeated, and kissed her, once and firmly and sweetly, on the lips.

Mal traced the point of the knife upwards, hearing it scrape along the fabric beneath the roughness of her own breath, then tucked the point just beneath the lace and silk that draped over Evie’s shoulder. “Always?” she whispered.

“Always.”

She slit through the strap in one flick, the knife so sharp that it parted the fabric like nothing, and that thought set Mal’s heartbeat racing. It was no trick, no false knife, none of her magic guiding its point. Just her, and Evie, and a dress and a blade.

The strap trailed down, and Evie’s shoulders were left bare. Mal bent her head to press a kiss upon the now-exposed skin.

“I hate it when you wear stuff that isn’t yours,” Mal said, something like an admittance. She set the blade at the base of the bodice, watching the point carefully. It gleamed in the light. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Her cut upwards was more careful, not some wild slash but a slow deliberate parting of the fabric to reveal Evie’s smooth skin beneath. Mal felt sweat on the back of her neck as she cut, peeling Evie out of Auradon, out of anything that tried to make her less than  _ her _ , and revealing the honesty beneath in her beautiful bare skin.

Evie’s breath caught as Mal reached the top of the bodice, dress well-made enough that it still stood, almost decent, almost covering her. Then Mal put the knife down on the desk beside them, heavily, and grabbed one half of the bodice in each hand.

For a fraction of a second, her eyes met Evie’s, and she  _ knew _ that Evie understood.

She ripped the dress apart in a single wrench, splitting the skirt in two. Magic fuelled her strength, and the ribbon at the back of the bodice snapped. It slipped free, unravelling as it let Evie’s dress fall apart.

Dropping the fabric, the useless excuse for a dress that would never have been up to Evie’s standards no matter whose hands had made it, Mal caught hold of Evie to kiss her. One hand in her hair, one on the small of her back to feel the softness of her skin.

Evie kissed her desperately, arching into her like magnetism was dragging them together. She gasped against Mal’s mouth and nipped at her lip, and her hands ran down Mal’s sides and clung to her hips so tightly that it almost hurt.

Mal drew back just far enough to look down and was struck all over again at how damn  _ gorgeous _ Evie was. The Isle had not been able to mar her, to damage her, her smile or her mind or her body. She ruffled Evie’s hair to knock out the pins and clips within it, and Evie laughed breathlessly as they tumbled around them and clattered to the floor.

“We’ll have to find them tomorrow,” Evie pointed out.

“That’s tomorrow’s problem,” Mal replied, and kissed her on the mouth one more time.

Then she was sliding down, kissing Evie’s shoulders and breasts, then placing quick, sucking kisses to each of her hard nipples. Evie gasped and grabbed hold of the desk again as Mal pushed her up against it, with hands on her sides and mouth on her stomach. 

A click of her fingers, the slightest touch of magic, and the door locked itself. It was not as if  _ that _ could be considered misuse, surely. Because how could it be anything other than good to not have to leave, not have to stop pressing kisses to the lines of Evie’s hipbones, to the edge of the black lace underwear which was all she had left on.

She looked up, meaning to make it teasing, but unable to manage anything more than awed. Then, still holding Evie’s gaze, she hooked her fingers around both sides of the girl’s underwear and slipped them down her long, bare legs. Evie slipped one foot out but left the fabric dangling around the other ankle, and somehow that was right as well. There was a hint of the old Isle impatience and desperation even here, in Auradon, where Mal could afford to take the time for the adoration that Evie deserved.

Fingers traced up the inside of Evie’s thigh again, her skin softer than silk, better to the touch than any fabric could ever be. Evie parted her legs just slightly before tilting her head back, and Mal dragged her gaze back downwards again as she traced her fingers delicately over Evie’s lower lips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Mal whispered, sure that even Evie could not hear her. She could only say that in moments like this, moments when she knew she would not be heard. On The Isle, it had been whispers into Evie’s hair as she slept, or murmurs while watching from a distance. And even then, there had been a fear of her mother finding out.

Now, finally, they were free.

She stroked upwards with her fingers, just firm enough to feel wetness on her fingertips, and Evie gasped. Mal shifted properly to her knees, amid the puffs of red fabric that pooled like liquid fire at their feet, and pressed her lips to Evie’s skin to hear the way that she moaned, soft and lost and found all at once. Her thighs were warm against Mal’s cheeks, and she tasted so  _ perfect _ , so true, wet and salty-sweet as Mal swept her tongue against her.

Mal slipped her fingers back down again and into Evie, feeling the shape of her, the way that she moved against Mal’s fingers with every breath. Breaths which were growing heavier, punctuated with a moan as Mal sucked at the most sensitive point of her skin.

“Fucking beautiful,” breathed Mal, safe beneath the way that Evie gasped. She set a gentle, steady rhythm with her fingers, knowing Evie’s body after all this time, knowing just the way to move her tongue and when to murmur wordlessly just for the vibrations that it gave. 

Sure, the heat went between her thighs when she felt Evie like this – felt and tasted and saw and smelled and heard her all at once, all of her senses immersed in Evie until there didn’t need to be a rest of the world – but it was the clench in her chest that brought her to her knees, the tightness around her heart which was fear and love and hope all mixed together. Three emotions, all in one, which had never been allowed on The Isle.

So she kissed her way along Evie’s skin and stroked with two fingers at her innermost secrets, until one of Evie’s hands tangled in her hair and dislodged all the perfect curls and pins in another flurry around them. Until Evie all but whimpered, thighs trembling. Until Evie came apart on her tongue, with a moan of her name that made Mal’s heart beat faster, a shudder running all down her until her hold on the desk became more support than restraint.

Mal licked her fingers clean as she straightened up again, stroking Evie’s cheek as she rolled back upwards, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. Mal stole a kiss from her parted lips, while Evie was still softened enough not to steal one back, and broke it just as she felt Evie start to stir and sharpen beneath her.

It had always been easy to manage a smirk. “You ever wear someone else’s work again,” she said, too much of a smile in her voice to make it sound like a warning. “I’ll fuck that off you as well.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Evie replied, but she was smiling as well. 

Mal rested their foreheads together as Evie reached up to trail her fingers along the neckline of Mal’s dress. With no dress left to grab, Mal caught a handful of Evie’s hair and scrunched it up, too many feelings in her chest and not enough words that she would dare to say to free them. “You’re more than they could ever be,” she said, and Evie’s chuckle had an edge of disbelief to it, but Mal kissed it from her lips again.

“Well, I think I should get you out of your dress in the more traditional way.”

A challenge as well. Mal nipped at Evie’s lower lip. “Wouldn’t want to damage  _ your _ work, after all.”


End file.
